Ad Infernum
by Pyralis Anacreon
Summary: The Flock isn't playing around anymore. Things have changed a lot, in three years. The bomb is ready about ten seconds later. First in a trilogy.


_ad infernum_- to Hell

* * *

The Flock isn't playing around anymore. Things have changed a lot, in three years. _The bomb is ready about ten seconds later._

* * *

I glare at the soldiers. They can see the hate in my eyes, which is why they're told to never meet our gaze. They don't want to see how human we are.

And how human we're not.

"Hold it just a little longer, Fang!" I shout to my second, over the ceaseless gunfire.

He grunts focused on keeping us hidden. His invisibility power has evolved and expanded over the past three years, into near-total control over light. Right now he's bending it in a way that makes all of us invisible. They soldiers below are trying to hit us by pure luck, but their fatal mistake has already been made. We're in the air, dropping their chances of capture to almost nil. The sky is our domain, where we are nigh-untouchable.

"How's the bomb coming, Ig!" I yell to my left, where Iggy's been fiddling with our remaining explosive material for four minutes. We're going to have to raid another military place to get the high-grade 'boom' soon, or Ig will throw a fit.

"Need a little more power, if we want to settle down before nightfall." He shouts back.

"On it!"

Down below, they've brought in a firework canon. We call it that because it reaches a certain altitude and then explodes in a giant sphere, like a firework. I dive, pouring on all the speed I have. I'm the world's new fastest bird; that silly little peregrine hasn't got anything on zero to three-hundred in 3.7 seconds. They see a blur, maybe. I pluck a firework right out of one's hands, taking his head off with my wing. I've done that enough times to know what would happen, but damn it if gore doesn't take forever to get out of my feathers and hair. I hope the bastard's head lands on someone.

I toss the firework to Gazzy, who does something to it and then throws it to Iggy. The bomb is ready about ten seconds later. Ig nods at me, and even though I can't hear thoughts, I know both Iggy and Gazzy just shouted Angel's name in their heads, because I did too.

She emerges from the fray below on Total's back. Mind control on a wide scale takes massive amounts of brain power, which would otherwise be devoted to keeping her wings flapping. So Total, who took on an amazing growth spurt last year, flies for the both of them.

Iggy tosses the bomb, and we don't stay behind to watch. We've got to get away, if we want to be able to rest for the night. We are all thinking: _This is for Nudge_.

I have no regrets.

* * *

About three years ago, several people in power came to approximately the same realization at about the same time. It went a little like this:

Whoever controls the Flock, controls the world.

We didn't get the memo until we were attacked by the first round of soldiers--regular, human soldiers. We fought them off, but it was hard. They weren't Erasers, mindless things created for the sole purpose of capturing us, they weren't simple, deadly robots. They had lives outside this battle, a family to support, sons and daughters we would be orphaning, wives and husbands to widow. We tried not to kill them, because they were human and have more of a purpose than they thought. And I still had to save the world, even if it was through my own mercy.

Then Nudge died.

Things changed. Iggy's bombs got bigger, included shrapnel and true lethality, Gazzy's gas became something deadly, Angel's mind control expanded to terrifying proportions, and Fang became our most ruthless killer. We never stop evolving; always finding new powers just when we need them. Our greatest quality is survival, pushing past odds and impossibilities with a derisive snort and a flip of the finger.

And me? I'm the fearless leader. I'd say the world can go to Hell, but we're already there, so I think I'll just let Gazzy and Iggy blow it up.

I'm looking out for the Flock now.

The world can save itself.

* * *

Kind of short, but I'm really just setting a scene. And I wanted gory action/humor in the same paragraph. First in a trilogy featuring the Flock, the Apocalypse, and people on fire doing cliche flaming-people things. Like running in useless circles. My brain is stuck on stupid-funny-that-makes-sense-only-to-myself-and-insane-persons.


End file.
